


We Can Heal

by NotInPublic



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Season/Series 06 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotInPublic/pseuds/NotInPublic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>***Season 6 spoilers***<br/>After the Battle of the Bastards, Jon and Sansa help heal each others' wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Heal

Blood, fire and copper-colored hair. The color red had dominated his second life. Death, uncertainty and warmth. Such an angry and powerful color to be surrounded by, one which left its mark on a man.

His dreams were flooded with images of men dying all around him, some by his own hand, some as a result of his orders. His hands were drenched in it, he could feel it sticky on the skin of his face and could smell it thick in the air.

These images were replaced by burning hot flames, by the red woman who had raised him from the dead and placed him back on this God-forsaken earth. The flames seemed to dance around him and he could feel their heat pressing in, like the questions that haunted him. Why am I still here? Why did she bring me back? What do I do now?

The questions became louder and louder. People were shouting them at him, faces flickered in the firelight; Ygritte, Mance, Thorne, Olly, Rickon.  
"Why did we die?" They chanted. "Why did we die?"  
Tormund and Sansa, their cold eyes met his as they spat "what are your plans now? What do we do?" Louder still their voices grew and his heart began to beat faster.  
"I don't know", he wanted to scream, "I don't know anything".

"You know nothing Jon Snow" Ygritte's eyes danced in the firelight, her skin the pale cold of the dead.

Jon gasped has he woke, hand reflexively reaching for his sword but it wasn't there. He wore no armor, only underclothes and the pressure he felt on his chest was the weight of soft furs keeping him warm as he slept. 

Copper flashed in the corner of his vision and manic, haunted eyes darted to the figure sat beside him. With his nightmares so fresh in his mind, he half-believed Ygritte had come to take him back to death where he belonged. To deliver the punishment he deserved for his many mistakes.

But it was not Ygritte that he saw beside him, it was Sansa.

Looking into her worried eyes, he felt the wolf inside him tame. His breathing relaxed from the jagged gasp and he could almost feel the shadows of his dream being banished away by her light. His arms fell back to his sides. He was home. For now, he was safe.

Her's was the third red which had come to dominate his life. Her red hair was the physical embodiment of her will to survive, to bring their house back to its former power, to punish those who had wronged her. It's vibrance reminded him that he was no longer in the abyss that was death, that he had a purpose, a duty, a home.

Sansa's hands were held up in front of her, ready to fight him off if needed. He had scared her, he realized. Guilt flooded him as he imagined what the manic look on his face must have reminded her of, echoing the madness of the men who had taken her innocence, had hurt her and changed his ignorant, spoilt little sister into the woman opposite him now.

He looked away, ashamed.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, his voice hoarse from the screams of the battle they had just won. 

"It's okay" she whispered in reply " I have nightmares too sometimes."

He looked back at her and saw that she had relaxed, her hands were drawn in her lap and her shoulders had fallen back to their usual position.

"No" he winced as he turned towards her and stretched his freshly closed wounds "I'm sorry for not listening to you. You warned me about Bolton and I-" he was silenced as her hands closed around his and gripped them tight.

"Yes, I did and you didn’t listen then so you'll listen to me now." She paused until his eyes once again met her's, they were lined with dark circles and her clothes had a creased look that told him she hadn't slept that night. 

He listened.

"You could never have saved Rickon. He was just a scared boy who thought he could run from a monster because he was too young to realize that there is no such thing as mercy or goodwill. I told you that Ramsay wouldn't let him live. Rickon was as good as dead the second he set eyes on him." Her voice was not thick with emotion, she did not cry or shout as the Sansa he had once known would have, instead she spoke with the even certainty of someone who had seen far too much of the world’s truth to be hurt by it again.

"I should have-" he began, but her fierce eyes flashed with anger and her hands pushed away from his, silencing him.

"You never have broken ranks trying to play the hero. You should have realized it was a trap. That's what you should have done. Heroes do not exist, Jon, they belong in fairy tales and anyone pretending to be one will always end up dead." Her voice grew louder, less cold as emotion crept in and made it uneven "You could have died. And what would I have done then?" Her breath was as sharp as the tone of her voice. There was a significance to it's the did not expect.

He felt a shudder run through him like a spark of fire. Neither had spoken of what had happened on the last night they spent at Castle Black. They had not referenced the solace they had found in the warmth of one another, of the first true tenderness either had felt since they first left their childhood home. They did not discuss the way their bodies had fitted beside one another nor how well they had slept sheltered in each other's embrace. Jon had almost convinced himself that it had been a dream, yet the emotions that she had awoken inside him would not allow that to happen completely. They hadn't had sex but both knew that they had crossed the boundaries of the love between brother and sister that night.

He felt the air leave him when he saw the tears welling in her bright blue eyes, the eyes which so reminded him of her mother, yet whose warmth contrasted so sharply with the cold glare he had come to associate with Catlyn. 

His own eyes stung as he reached out to her and she fell into his arms like a sapling crumpling against the wind.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled into her hair as she wept into his shoulder "I'm sorry, I'm here, I'm still here. I'll never leave you."

"Don't say that" Sansa's voice was surprisingly fierce "don't say never because you don't know that for certain and I'm not sure that I can stop myself believing you so don't say it." She pulled back enough for him to see the fear in her eyes. He thought for a moment,

"I'll never stop trying" he said, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. I'll never stop trying to be by your side, I'll never stop trying to help heal your wounds, I'll never stop trying to return what should never have been taken from you.”

She almost smiled at this, her eyes softened and her hand came to cup his cheek. As her lips pressed against his, it felt like she was breathing life into him. In return, he tried to kiss away the walls she had built to protect herself from pain and the lies of evil men.

Her lips were soft against his chapped ones, like the hand laid against his face. So much was said in that kiss, it wasn't the romantic one of reunited lovers, it was the desperate kiss of lost souls who were slowly finding themselves again through the other, of two people trying to learn how to trust again.

When they parted, both were breathing hard. Sansa’s hand traced the skin not covered by his clothes, before moving these aside and exploring further. It could have been an innocent gesture, inspecting his wounds but there was something to the softness of her touch that spoke of more. Jon's gaze followed her's and he tried to imagine what she must be thinking, hoping the shadows of violence she saw would not repulse her.

His skin was a map of scars. There was a thin line across his left eye from where Orell's bird had clawed him and a deep gash ran across his right temple. Ygritte's arrow had left a bumpy, smooth circle where it has pierced his skin and there were marks on his hands from numerous fights and once from being burned in a fire. His palms were rough and calloused from harsh cold and sword fighting. He had fresh, angry jagged lines across his torso where the blades of his brothers had stabbed him to death. His most recent injuries were at least- for now- hidden by bandages. His whole body seemed to be painted in bruises. Ugly as they were, Jon couldn't find it in himself to regret them, each mark added to the story of his journey from Winterfell, from the boy soft as summer to the man he was now.

"It's strange to think that it's only been a few years" Sansa spoke finally, an edge of humor to her voice.

"Are you trying to say that I look like an old man?" He chuckled, gritting his teeth against the pain it caused. He wouldn't blame her if she was, sometimes he felt like a man three times his age.

"No" she smiled fully this time and her beauty blazed more strongly than ever. She leaned closer to him again but reluctantly, he pulled away, finally acknowledging the uneasy feeling that had settled in his stomach since that night at Castle Black.

"Sansa” Jon could see the hurt written across her face at his rejection as he tilted her head back to face him “we need to discuss this.”

He could feel her body grow tense, could sense that she didn't want to think about what they were doing beyond the solace it brought her.

“This is” Jon began but Sansa cut over him,

“Don't tell me this is wrong Jon, I've been married twice against my will to men who society said were suitable for me. My first marriage ended with me fleeing King’s Landing with a price on my head and in my second, I was raped and beaten on my wedding night by a man whose family helped to kill our bother and my mother. I can still feel his hands on me, I can hear him laughing and some days I still ache from what he did to me. How can it be that those marriages were acceptable but this is wrong?” She looked at him imploringly and he felt himself falter.

His stomach churned. Hatred boiled inside him towards the people that had hurt her. He couldn't deny the truth in her words.

“You're my sister” he said, as if to remind himself as much as her “we shouldn't-“

“Who says we shouldn’t? You are all I have left and I need you. I came to Castle Black looking for my brother, I didn’t expect to feel this way, I didn’t expect to… I'm scared too Jon, I'm scared because none of this was supposed to happen but it has. We shouldn't be fighting this war but we are. If you say I shouldn't feel this way, maybe I shouldn't but I do. I never thought I could trust another person again but with you, I'm getting so close” she seemed as taken aback by her words as he was.

He looked at her for a long moment, her beautiful face and proud shoulders, the clothes that betrayed the fact she’d watched over him all night as he slept. She was right.  
He shouldn't be alive but he was. He shouldn't have been Lord Commander of the Night’s watch but he had been. He shouldn’t have lain with a Wildling against his vows but he did. He shouldn't have lived through the battle yesterday but he had, because of Sansa a voice in his head finished.

He knew shouldn't feel such comfort from the touch of his half-sister, they shouldn't be stitching themselves back together through one another's hope but they were and that was the truth of it, plain and simple. He was tired of trying to do the right thing, the “right thing” never seemed to lead to anything but more pain and problems.

“You're right. Before you came to Castle Black I wanted to give up on everything. You changed that” he replied and it was good to admit it aloud.

They moved together, meeting in the middle and red hair was in his hands as their lips came together once more. The uneasy feeling within him quietened; there had been so many awful things done to Sansa over the last couple of years and maybe he could help heal some of those wounds. 

Her fingers were quick and nimble as she underdressed him, whereas he was slow and sore as each movement made him aware of another part of him that ached. Eventually she became impatient and helped him undress her too.

Soon, their clothes were muddled in a heap on the floor and Sansa’s body was against his beneath the furs. He pulled back to look into her eyes.  
“Are you sure?” He asked with the smallest tract of uncertainty in his voice.

“Ramsay took everything from me in this castle. I'm ready to take it back.” Her voice was so fierce, her eyes burning into his and in that second Jon understood. They had both vowed their lives and bodies to other people and this was the last chain left tying them to their former lives.

He studied her skin, perfect and smooth as porcelain. She didn't carry her wounds on the surface as he did, rather hers were hidden. Her daemons lay in memories and words spoken, in years of having no control over her life. He wanted to kiss them away, to show her how much power she had now. How loved she would always be.

The heat of her warm, smooth body against his made him feel more alive than he'd felt in weeks and as her mouth moved across his skin, kissing each scar that her fingers had earlier discovered, all thoughts except for Sansa left his mind.  
Sansa smiled as she felt his body respond to her kisses and with a mischievous look at Jon, her head disappearing below the blankets.

Half-way down, she seemed to become distracted by the bruised and sore muscles of his torso. Tracing across his stomach with her fingers she kissed each bruise deliberately, lost in the sensations of skin-against-skin. Of belonging.

Sansa was brought out of her study as Jon sucked in a gasp of air, drawing his stomach in “that tickled” he laughed, trying to reach down to tickle her in response.

His laughter was cut short into a gasp as she took him into her mouth, her hand coming to the base of his cock and bringing him to full hardness. He'd not been touched like this in so long, and he was slightly worried for his stamina at this rate.

Sansa ran her tongue along the base of his shaft before kissing the end teasingly, a smile ghosting her lips. It was all he could do to remember his manners and not thrust back at her when she looked at him with those eyes so full of life. Where had she learned all this? He wondered but shut that thought down as soon as it had formed. He didn't want to know how Sansa had been taught to pleasure men. Instead he wondered how much she'd been taught about herself.

“Wait” he found his voice again, pulling her head back up towards his.

“Did I do something wrong?” Sansa asked, worried.

Jon smiled broadly as he saw a glimpse of the young lady so eager to please that he had once known.

“No Sansa but you don't have to do that for me. Not now” he sucked in a gasp of air against the sharp pain in his ribs as he reversed their positions to place her beneath him.

“What are you doing?” Unease formed a crease in the centre of her brow and she looked nervous.

“Relax” he smiled, bending forward to kiss her softly “Let me show you.”

“What do you- ohh” she gasped in a way that would have made him laugh if he weren't so transfixed by the way her body responded to him. Rays of sunlight fell across her body, highlighting the red in her hair and he was sharply reminded of another woman, in another life. He pushed the thoughts away. Sansa was all that mattered right now.

He slowly drew circles with his fingers around her soft bud, delighting in the shock and pleasure that was painted across her face.

“Am I the first person to touch you like this?” He murmured against her ear “is it okay? I can stop if…”

“Yes” she answered breathlessly “but don't stop, I…” her words were cut short as Jon sped up the pace of his fingers and moved his mouth down to her nipple, softly sucking and biting it into hardness. He grinned as it had the desired effect. Sansa cried out softly and bucked against his hand.

“They will never hurt you again, I promise” he whispered, but his words fell on deaf-ears as Sansa screwed her eyes closed and fought against a moan.  
After moving to her other nipple, he kissed his way down past her navel to place his tongue where his fingers had just been. His cock throbbed at the sweet taste of her but he ignored it in favour of listening to her startled gasps.

“Jon” she gasped, finally letting herself go fully as her hand came to a fist in his hair as her legs wrapped around him. She seemed almost unaware of what her body was doing in response to him.

He moved his tongue more persistently now, pausing to suck at the small mound which had hardened under his mouth. Sansa's breathing became louder as she whimpered softly.

He moved lower, letting his tongue dip into her. She was so warm and wet, he allowed himself to lose a little control as he tasted her fully. Men who force themselves on women are insane, he thought suddenly, what could be better than this?

She was getting close, he could feel it. He resumed the circles he had been drawing with his tongue as he slowly moved a finger inside her, careful with every movement not to hurt her.

As the hand in his hair tightened and her whole body shook beneath him, Sansa came with a sharp cry of surprise. Jon could feel her pulsing against his finger and became more aware than ever of his own need that was now burning fiercely.

“Jon… What?” Sansa began

“That is how you deserve to be touched. I want you to forget everything before” Jon answered, kissing her deeply, knowing that she would be able to taste herself on his tongue. When he pulled away, her lips were flushed a deep red and her skin had a pink glow. She seemed almost shy to be at the receiving end of so much attention but before the thoughts could fully form, Jon lined himself up against her opening.

“Is this okay?” He asked as she almost imperceptibly flinched away “I promise not to hurt you. It won't be like…” He paused, not wanting to push her back into her memories but needing to ask.

The emotion in her blue eyes as they met his own was almost enough to undo him there and then. She nodded, pulling his head down to kiss him.  
“I trust you” she whispered against his lips.

He couldn't find the words to answer, so slowly he moved forward and sank into her. She was so hot inside and wet enough that even if he weren't moving slowly he could never have hurt her. 

When he was fully inside her, he pressed his forehead to hers. He could hardly feel the pain from his injuries now, his mind had stopped whirring and for the first time in a long time, he felt happiness, pure happiness. He felt almost whole.

“Touch yourself, like I did” he prompted and smiled as her hand slid lower and began to mimic his earlier actions, slow at first but growing in confidence quickly.

Slowly, he began to pull out of her, his hands coming to grip her hips firmly before moving forward again. As Sansa began to explore how to make herself feel good, Jon began to speed up his pace.

She felt amazing, better than he could every have imagined. His hands traveled over her body, marvelling at every soft curve and flat surface, allowing his mouth to fall to her neck, kissing it tenderly and breathing hot breaths against her ear, drawing shudders from the body beneath him.

By the time Sansa's hips were bucking to meet his motions and their joined moans were filling the air, Jon was thrusting in earnest. Small beads of sweat has formed around Sansa’s hairline and as their bodies slid against one another, he realised he'd never seen a more beautiful sight. Jon could feel himself getting close but was determined for her finish before him. She was so tight now, her walls clenched around him as she neared release, her fingernails digging into the tender skin of his back, already littered with bruises from the day before. He focused on the pain to stop himself from coming just at the sight of her, flushed and breathless beneath him.

“Jon!” Sansa cried with the same look of elation as before as she came for a second time, tightening still around him and dragging him over the edge with her. He cried out as he spilled his seed inside her, wave after wave of ecstasy running through his body as he finally let go. In that second he felt whole, as if he and Sansa were one and the same, as if there were no problems in the world. 

As their breathing began to return to normal he shifted so that he could hold her tightly, as if to hold her in the moment for as long as possible, to stave off the world of kings and wars and white walkers for just a while longer. To revel in the wonderful feeling of home.

“Sleep” he whispered against her temple, her tired body giving into the warmth of his own.

“Jon?” She mumbled, eyes closed.

“Mhm?” He replied, closing his own.

“Thank you” her voice was heavy with emotion and he pulled her closer in response, not trusting himself to speak.

As the soft sound of Sansa’s breathing filled the quiet room, Jon gave into his own body’s demand for sleep.

This time, the nightmares did not come.

 

******************************************************************************************

Hey!  
This was the first thing I've written in a long time and my first ever Jonsa fic, I really hope you liked it- please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm currently open to prompts on tumblr: not-in-public
> 
> Please feel free to message me


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